Carillon of Skulls E-Book

Lester Del Rey

• Herausgeber: Wildside Press
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 32

Beschreibung

In the eerie ruins of Lefferts Park, Ann Muller's search for a forgotten remedy leads her into a night shrouded in mystery and dark enchantments.

When she meets the cryptic Mother Brian, an old seeress, the night takes a sinister turn. Entangled in a web of supernatural forces and desperate remedies, Ann must navigate through hidden dangers and ancient curses. Amidst shadows that whisper of past tragedies and a park that harbors dark secrets, will Ann unravel the mystery before the malevolent forces claim their due?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

CARILLON OF SKULLS, by Lester del Rey & James H. Beard

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Originally published in Unknown, Feb. 1941.

Copyright © 1941 by Street & Smith, renewed 1969.

Reprinted with the permission of the author’s estate.

Wildside Press | wildsidepress.com

CARILLON OF SKULLS,by Lester del Rey & James H. Beard

Ann Muller ran a pale hand down the massive bole of the single oak, standing out in forsaken grandeur over the ruins of Lefferts Park, and gripped tightly on a shaggy outcropping of its bark. Through a hole in the tattered leaves overhead she saw angry clouds scudding across the sky and watched the last threads of the moon vanish, leaving the park a pit of sordid black. She shuddered and old words slipped through her teeth.

“How long wilt Thou forget me, O Lord? Forever? How long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me? My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”

“Strange words from you, dearie.” The voice piped up from the blackness near her, ending in a cackling hiccup. A thin shaft of moonlight trickled down again, showing an old crone with dirty gray hair and the ragged shreds of former beauty still clinging to the reddened face. “Strange names you’re calling on this night, I’m thinking. Hee!”

Ann dropped her hand from the tree and nodded faintly. “Perhaps. You’re late, Mother Brian. Did you find the remedy?”

“That I did, and simple enough, too. Dried dust of balsam needles, the book said, and I have it with me. Here’s your bag with it, though I’d not open the same, was I you. And the bullet. What you’ll be doing, though—”

“Your pay,” the girl suggested, stripping a curious green-set ring from her finger. “It’s all I have now.”

Mother Brian—Madame Olga, the seeress, she called herself now—pushed it aside. “Then you keep it, dearie. I’ve whiskey money this night, and you used to be a good girl, once. It’s a long memory only that brings Madame Olga into this God-forsaken place, not pay. Hee! A sweet girl, if a bit headstrong and foolish before—”

“Yes. Thank you, Mother Brian. What night is it?”

“Friday.” She bit the word out reluctantly, and the girl jerked back at it, her fingers trembling as she caught at the oak bark again. In the dark, the old dealer in spells stretched forth a solicitous hand.

“Friday! Are you sure?” Ann’s eyes strained against the darkness and saw truth on the other’s face. “Then that’s why he was with me when I woke. He doesn’t trust me now but whispers his orders in my ear while I’m sleeping.”

“Lot of good it’ll do him this night. They’ve a police guard all about the place so only them as know the old tunnel can squeeze through the bulls and get in. It’s an empty night for him, the slimy thing. For a thimble of smoke, I’d be—”

“No.” Ann interrupted again, wearily. She was strangely tired, and the assurance of Madame Olga failed to bring hope with it. “No, they wouldn’t believe you, and he’d—hunt. You’d better leave now, Mother Brian. He might come.”

“Hee! He’ll be busy still.” But she turned away and went creaking out through the gloom with a grunted farewell.

Ann slumped against the tree, noting that the rift in the clouds was only a brief flash this time, and that it promised to be the last that night. But her eyes were accustomed to the dark, and she watched the old figure hobble away, down into a weed-grown hole, and out of sight toward safety.

Then she twitched her shoulders and stepped out from under the tree, picking her way through the tangle around. At one time Lefferts Park had been the mecca of the amusement-minded, with theater, roller-skating rink, picnic grounds, and places where barkers announced the admission price was “only a thin dime, folks, the tay-yenth paht of a dollah.” But that had been years before.